


Interacting with Unusual Creatures

by Lily_Vipers



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Because he needs it, Everyone is mothering graves, F/M, Humor, M/M, Newt being a mother hen, We'll see how long that'll last, a 5+1 fic, because Graves needs it okay?, but Graves is okay with it, moments between Graves and Scamander, niffler stealing things again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-13 09:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Vipers/pseuds/Lily_Vipers
Summary: Graves keeps encountering Newt’s creatures. He’s not sure what to make of it.





	1. The Pocket Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Interacting with Unusual Creatures  
> Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
> Summary: Graves keeps encountering Newt’s creatures. He’s not sure what to make of it.  
> Pairings: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Notes: A 5 + 1 fic.

_“Though the Niffler is gentle and even affectionate, it can be destructive to belongings and should never be kept in a house.”_

Percival Graves was subjected to many torturous months of recovery and rest, which made the two and a half months spent under Grindelwald's ‘care’ seemed like a vacation. He knew pain. He knew his purpose hidden away in the cell: protect MACUSA and protect New York, his health and mentality be damned.

But nothing could be done with the amount of well-wishers visiting him during his recovery. Yes, he got it. Grindelwald was very good in keeping his impersonation a secret. No need for his family, his ‘friends’, and his co-workers to parade in and out of his apartment to ‘see’ how he was doing. Even Madame President visited him occasionally, her guilt for not spotting the fake. Graves was her right hand man and she didn’t even batted her eyelashes with his sudden change in behavior.

Though, as Graves pondered over the months he was forced on bed rest and hours of therapy, Grindelwald didn’t really acted out of the ordinary when he was impersonating Graves. The director was already hard to work with and kept to himself. He did let himself get too absorbed in his work and made sure his aurors were actually decent at their jobs.

Sure, Graves could admit that he was an hard-ass. He was working on it, okay?

The Goldstein sisters took it upon themselves to visit him once every couple of days. Tina gotten into the habit of sneaking some documents away from the office and having Graves look them over during his recovery, her stumbling over during her first visit and trying to right a wrong with a ruling Grindelwald passed a few weeks before he was revealed to be a fraud.

(He got to know what Grindelwald did in his absence. How many people he sent away and how many he sentenced to death. Again, how did no one know that it wasn’t him? Graves might had been hard to work with, but he valued human life, any life really. The war taught him that and Tina, blessed her soul, felt the same way.

_“Sir, you need to show your compassion more often at the office! I know you’re the director and all that, but see how Newt get along with everyone, even with his aversion to social interactions? People see that he cares and regard him with respect._

_Well, most of them does.”_ )

Queenie, being a little bit of a mother hen, brought around pastries and actual food to make sure Graves was being well-nourished. She knew all of his favorites and he took advantage of her visits by working on his mental shield. His time with Grindelwald had greatly strained his mentality and he knew Queenie will not let his secret slip.

(Her visits, Graves thought, might had to deal with the fact that he caught her in a certain no-maj’s bakery early on during his recovery. Graves might had gave her a few tips on avoiding certain non-opened minded employees of MACUSA. He also reinstated Tina’s standing as an auror, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the no-maj.

The pastries were delicious and heavenly, after all.

 _“I’m glad you love them, Mr. Graves. I’ll be sure to come by often and bring you some more of the cherry-filled ones. Don’t you find them utterly fascinating? I wonder how Jacob is able to replicate Newt’s creatures like this. You should hear Newt go on and on about Jacob’s bakery. It’s cute, really.”_ )

But what Graves really wanted to do the minute he was back at his office was meet the one and only Newt Scamander, the one who helped capture one of the most notorious criminal in the magical community.

To say ‘thank you,’ of course.

_For everything._

Graves wasn’t sure how much longer he’ll last being Grindelwald's prisoner. He could only hold out for so long. (Graves thought of no less than eleven different ways he could end his life and he was oh so very close in acting on one. Very close.)

Also….how did a British wizard come in and disrupt everything that led to Grindelwald’s capture?

From what Graves gathered, Newt only had concerns about his creatures and keeping them safe. It just so happened that Grindelwald got unmasked in the process. It was pure luck and Graves didn’t believe in luck.

Oh, well. Other than the time he briefly met Newt when he accompanied the aurors that came barging into his prison, he hadn’t seen the magizoologist since Graves heard he boarded a ship to England to finish his book, a copy of which resided on his desk at MACUSA. Tina made sure to get a signed copy for him. She even got Newt’s to write a little inscription, though God knows why.

In fact, Newt was far from his mind the day he bumped into the magizoologist in the lobby of MACUSA. Graves knew that Newt had accepted the position of consultant and was working with the president on a more refined policy in dealing with magical creatures that occasionally pops up on the job from time to time. (It didn’t help that the Goldstein sisters constantly bring Newt into their conversations. Something about how the British wizard wanting to meet him officially and see how Graves was doing. Maybe Graves shouldn’t use the term ‘mother hen’ on Queenie.)

The day was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, Graves was forcing himself out of his office and trying to talk to several of his aurors and be more interested in their lives outside of work which was a hard task to take on. He didn’t care for small talks. He rather use his time to get some work done, but Tina suggested to be more open and receptive with his co-workers. Make them see that he was human after all, and not the director who could make their lives miserable. (He really did like making their lives miserable, but Grindelwald put a stop to that.)

He was actually looking for Tina when something fast, small and black was hurrying across the way out of the corner of Graves’ eyes. He quickly spelled the creature frozen and levitated to eye-level to see what he had caught.

Huh.

It was a niffler. He had the fortune to have never encountered one before.

Graves quickly checked his pockets for any missing items. Feeling air in his left breast pocket, Graves eyed the creature in front of him. “Having a productive day, aren’t you?”

The niffler eyes were darting back and forth trying to escape his frozen prison.

“I don’t really care what you had stolen from my lot of aurors, but I really do need my pocket watch back. It was a gift from my grandmother and she’s coming over tonight and I really do not need another lecture.”

Graves sighed. He was waiting for a response from the poor thing. His sanity must be going out the window.

The wizard slowly turned the creature upside down with his magic and thought back to what he read in Newt’s book. There weren’t really a step-by-step instructions on how to get his belonging back from the niffler’s pouch. Just to keep his belongings safe, which did not happen in this case.

Graves lessen the spell a bit, which allowed the niffler to move about more freely, his front legs waving about and his body twisting trying to get away. Only his small hindlegs were kept frozen.

How to get about in getting his watch back?

Graves took a second before reaching out to the niffler and slightly ruffled the pouch. The niffler gave a small squeak. The man smiled at the reaction and continued tickling the creature before him. All of the sudden, amidst the squeaking and shaking, a pile of jewelry and assorted gold items came falling out.

Finding what he was missing, Graves said another spell and slowly replaced the stolen goods back into the niffler’s pouch. He then slowly lowered the creature back down and was about to set it loose when he noticed that he had an audience.

“Were you just about to let the niffler off with other people’s belongings?” asked Newt, his eyes wide with disbelief. He was standing off to the side and trying to catch his breath. It seemed that Newt was running around looking for his niffler again.

“It’s their fault for not noticing their belongings were missing,” replied Graves as he shrugged his shoulders. “And I really do not want to take the time to find the rightful owners.”

Newt quickly came over and picked up his beloved niffler. “I never thought of tickling him to letting go of his loot. This will be a great addition to my book. I was in a rush in getting the book published, after the whole incident with Grindelwald, you see, that I wasn’t able to amend my draft before the publishers whisked it away to get it printed.” Realizing that he was babbling, Newt’s face and neck turned a slight shade of red in embarrassment, which Graves found a little enduring. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to go on like that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” said Graves, as he noticed Newt hugging the niffler close to his chest.

Newt finally looked at Graves as the director noticed him looking up and down. “Have you been sleeping well? Of course, you’re not. Not after what you been through. Hold on.” Newt dumped the niffler in Graves’ arms as he began looking for something in his pocket.

Graves eyed the creature wearily. Yes, he had bags underneath his eyes and his skin might be a bit too pale, but he did not look that bad, did he?

“Here, take this.” Newt suddenly handed over a vial of blue liquid.

“What is it?” asked Graves.

“Don’t worry about it. Just take a drop or two before you go to sleep. It will help with the dreams.”

How did Newt know about his nightmares? Graves only mentioned it once to Tina and that was awhile ago. “Is it legal?”

“It’s not necessary illegal.” Newt kneeled down and opened up his suitcase. He made a motion for Graves to hand the niffler over before closing the case shut after dumping the creature inside.

“I think you need a new case,” stated Graves, eyeing the whole ordeal.

“I need a better lock,” said Newt. “Dougal been taking after Pickett, you see.” The magizoologist looked up briefly before looking back down. “Of course, you don’t know whom I’m talking about. Not everyone had met your creatures, Newt, but it does make things a lot easier if they did.” Graves wondered if Newt muttered to himself often. It would explained a lot with why people tend to find Newt hard to talk to. Let’s just say that Graves had never met anyone quite like him.

The magizoologist murmured a few spells and checked his case over before continuing, this time directly at Graves, “Do you also get muscle spasms from time to time? My brother told me stories from his time during the war about prisoners being subjected to curses for prolong periods. I wanted to help the poor souls, so one summer I locked myself away at Albus’ winter home and worked day in and out on mixing various potions and using my creatures to create something that paralyzed the muscle a bit while simultaneous healing the body. It’s not a permanent fix but it’ll do for now.”

Graves had to suppressed a smile. Newt could really get ahead of himself, did he? “My therapy is helping me cope with getting back to my job.”

“Yes, therapy. Good thing you’re not the sort that looks down on that. My brother could be a real handful and subscribed to the notion that men must take care of themselves. It’s silly really.” Suddenly the magizoologist stood straight up and looked at Graves as if he was seeing him for the first time. “Oh. I think I forgot to introduce myself.”

“I know who you are, Newt,” said Graves.

“Yes, but we never officially met, did we? And I don’t want us starting off on the wrong foot. Queenie been trying to help me interact better socially and I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doing perfect,” said Graves. He was actually finding this whole encounter a bit sweet. And apparently he was going a bit soft.

“Are you sure? Because she said that I need to introduce myself properly and then ask about my creatures afterwards or I might be giving the wrong impression. Tina said I shouldn’t worry too much about this, but I want to try, you see. It’s not so hard to figure out what my creatures want because there’s no subtext, but human interactions are so complicated and overwhelming and I try to do too much that in the end I can’t look someone in the eyes.”

Newt pouted a bit at the end of his babbling. Graves did not find that adorable. (He did.)

“I’m Percival Graves,” Graves said as he held out his hand and gave Newt a reprieve.

Newt smiled, which seemed never ending to Graves. “I’m Newt Scamander. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook Graves’ hand.

“Likewise.”

All of the sudden, Queenie magically appeared out of thin air and stood right next to Newt, a little bit too close for Graves’ taste.

No, that couldn’t be right. Graves must had not seen her coming from the long walkway over there.

That was currently empty and devoid of people.

He shook his head. What kind of auror was he if he couldn’t be on alert with his surroundings? A dead auror, that’s what. How did he missed a single witch coming up to him and Newt?

Queenie had a overly surprised look on her face as she took in the scene before her and their linked hands. “Oh, I didn’t realized that I was interrupting a moment.”

Newt’s face flushed red, making his freckles stand out a bit more on his cheeks. He quickly took his hand back.

“You didn’t,” replied Graves, his tone cold.

Queenie just smiled, as if she knew a secret that he didn’t know about which unsettled Graves. “Well, how unfortunate.” She glanced at the Graves before directing her attention at Newt. “Darling, Tina’s looking for you. Something about a surprise at a certain bakery later on today.”

Newt gasped. “You weren’t suppose to know about that.”

Queenie smiled widely. “Honey, barely anything can get past me.” She glanced back at Graves. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to steal MACUSA’s magizoologist and be on our way.”

“I don’t care what Mr. Scamander does,” replied Graves, trying to sound uninterested with their plans. “As long as it’s not illegal.”

“Hmm hmm,” Queenie hummed. She grabbed Newt by the arm and pulled him along with her as they made their way across the lobby.

“Mr. Graves,” began Newt, his eyes darting around before settling at the space next to Graves’ ears, “It was really nice to meet you again.” He paused. “Under better circumstances.” Another pause. “And thank you for taking care of my niffler. He doesn’t take too kindly to strangers.” Newt even waved good-bye as Queenie dragged him around a corner.

Graves stared at empty corner as he rubbed his pocket watch absentmindedly.

It was a strange day. Definitely a strange day. But Newt did have a nice smile about him. Graves wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to see that smile again on the magizoologist.

And damn. He did not thank Newt for unmasking Grindelwald. (And to a lesser extend, saving him from his prison. He owed Newt a great deal on that one.)

Well, it was an excuse to talk to Newt again in the near future now that Graves know he was in the city.

And it was not because Graves found it easy to talk to him. Not at all.


	2. Cups of Tea

“ _The Demiguise is found in the Far East, though only with great difficulty, for this beast is able to make itself invisible when threatened and can be seen only by wizards skilled in its capture.”_

 Graves attributed his lack of perception to his months of capture and recovery. He was too busy _surviving_ both circumstances that he let things like his intuition and keen eye get dusty with unused.

It took him an ungodly amount of time to notice cups of tea being left around his office and his apartment. Graves did not drink tea. He was an American, through and through. Coffee was his preferred drink and Maxwell House was his brand. (He blamed the catchy slogan.) However, since the whole Grindelwald incident, a cup of coffee was too much on his nerves and he really had enough trouble going to sleep as it was.

But that did not mean he was a tea drinker. No. It reminded him too much of his distant relatives over in England. He still could not get over his horrible summers there as a child and he wasn’t even sure how he was related to them in the first place. His mother ignored his pleas and insisted it would help him navigate the social scene without showing much disdain so openly on his face. Even young, his mother and father had high hopes for him continuing the family name in MACUSA. (Though none of his esteemed relatives had gotten themselves captured by a crazed lunatic. One did died due to dragon pox so at least Graves got that going. He'll make sure the little known fact would be added to his headstone: _Got captured and tortured but did not die from dragon pox like his second cousin twice removed did, so cut him some slack.)_

Nevertheless, cups of tea were left everywhere: in his office, in his library, and once even by Tina’s desk. The only way he knew that the cup was left for him was that the tea was served in his family’s china cup, the god awful ones with the cherry blossoms and the untasteful family crest. The china was always kept locked away in his kitchen underneath the sink, only venturing outside whenever his grandmother visited and even then only for her use. He had his own non-descript black mug he gotten as a gift from an old lover.

Tina took offense in being yelled at in public for something she didn’t do. Graves had to send flowers and a memo of apology to everyone in the office about how stupid he was for jumping to conclusions before he gotten back into her good graces. He also had to treat the Goldstein sisters for dinner. Graves didn’t mind that part. Newt tagged along and had stories to tell about his time in Japan, which made the whole affair bearable and light-hearted. Graves could only handle the sisters one at a time. The two of them together was too taxing on his already taxed nerves.

But that did not solve the mystery of the tea.

(Which, yes, he found calming. It did help, but he won’t admit to that. He still had his pride.

He also needed to know how the tea was brewed, because it tasted nothing like the ones he had before. A hint of mint and a taste of lavender. It was so soothing and always a highlight of his day.)

Nevertheless, to add insult to injury, Graves also have to solve the mystery of the coats. Maybe he should have his title of Director taken away from him, because someone had been going through his closet and leaving his coats everywhere, even if it was as hot as a dragon's fire breath outside.

And not just his coats. Anyone’s coats, really. Graves could not count the amount of time he had to apologize to his co-workers for a coat or robe he just happened to have in his possession. (Picquery did not take too kindly in her golden-green robe, gifted to her by the current Minister of Magic, being found in Graves’ briefcase, even though he insisted he did not know how it gotten there or why it looked worn and used. He could not look her straight in her eyes for a long while, which further implicate his supposed guilt.)  

Queenie, of course, found all of this amusing. Graves entertained that it was the younger Goldstein sister that was behind all his misfortunate. Queenie just shook her head after she read his mind and said that she would had not been as subtle. She was more of a pusher and, like Tina, would want her voice and actions be heard. Loudly. She was, after all, not like a certain friend of theirs.

No. It couldn’t been her. Nor Tina. Nor his house elf, Marie. (Though Graves was pretty sure Marie knew who was to blame. But since technically Marie wasn’t really under his care after being relieved in his father’s will, she was under no obligations to tell Graves the truth. Marie made sure to always say that Graves was much too kind to force a confession out of her and that she was only there to make sure that Graves was properly looked after.For Graves’ poor mother’s health, of course. She did showed up at his apartment after he was allowed to go home by the healers. Grindelwald would had found it hard pressed to capture him if Marie had anything to say about it.)

So, in lied the trap to capture this mysterious being. A pretty ingenious trap, one might say. A simple sticking charm surrounding his desk at MACUSA and all he had to do was sit back and wait.

And wait.

Well, not ingenious after all. It had been five days with the sticking charm and the only person he caught was an unsuspecting young auror in training who was now too scared to death to go near Graves, which did not help his reputation nor his standing within his aurors. He really did not take after Grindelwald and this whole matter was not helping. (And the auror in training needed a lot more training if his simple sticking charm had caught her off guard. Seriously, what had they been teaching the new recruits?)

Maybe he should be unpredictable in his going about to try to get the suspect flustered. Maybe Graves would not stay till midnight at the office and instead go home at five like a normal worker globin. Maybe he would take that trip around the park during his lunch break instead of chasing down a criminal at a speakeasy.

Or maybe he should really get Newt a case with a better lock because it was his demiguise who was stalking him all over New York. The only reason why Graves caught the beast was because Newt was standing there in his office talking to the demiguise and scowling at him for over-mothering Graves when Newt only asked to look after him from time to time. Graves was being unpredictable by eating his lunch in his office, instead of his usual haunting at the magical section of the Stork Club, and was expecting his office to be empty and quiet to suit his needs. (And to drink a cup of tea that he was expecting to find.)

Graves also liked to think that a grown man barely turning forty did not need any looking after. Please. He was perfectly fine, thank you very much. He could take care of himself. To an extend. (Marie would so contradict this notion. She loved to rant to Graves how she was not his maid so he should know how to pick up after himself. He was a wizard, for God's sake. _Spell your coats to a hanger when you walk in through the door,_ _Master Graves_. It was one of Marie’ favorite rant. She had many.)

“How did you find him anyway?” asked Graves after he was done yelling at the younger wizard. It looked like his intimidation was waning, because Newt did not look like he found the receiving end of Graves’ anger all that terrifying. Instead Newt looked like he was suppressing his laughter. “Aren't demiguise usually invisible?”

“Dougal allowed me to place a tracking charm on him,” replied Newt with a somewhat smug look on his face.

“And why did _Dougal_ allowed you to place a tracking charm on him?” asked Graves, arms crossed and staring at the British wizard. Of course Newt would be the type to name his creatures. Dougal did suit the demiguise, Graves gave him that.

“He only wanted to help,” said Newt, smiling and seeing nothing wrong with his statement.

“Help,” repeated Graves.

“Yes,” said Newt.

“Why?”

“Well, after I caught him in your office a little after the whole niffler incident, I realized why Dougal kept escaping,” said Newt, eyes wide with fascination. “He’s unique, you see. He likes helping me take care of my creatures and it looks like he likes taking care of humans, too. He must had sense that you needed taking care of….”

“I do not need to be taken care of,” interrupted Graves, his eyes sending daggers at the demiguise who was now hiding behind Newt. The demiguise’s eyes were too big and wide to be anything but innocent. Graves knew better. Newt’s creatures were never innocent. Just look at who they had as a caretaker.

“And that’s why he kept escaping,” continued Newt, never minding the interruption. “So I figured, why not use it to my advantage? Let us help you and let him help me get some more writing materials for the second edition of my book. You already helped with my niffler; one more creature shouldn't hurt. I'll make sure to give you credit.”

“‘Let us help you?’” quoted Graves. “And please don't.”

Newt smiled sheeply. “I mean, let him help you.”

“And why don’t I believe you?” asked Graves.

“Believe what you want to believe, Percival.”

Graves raised his eyebrows at the mention of his given name. He didn't think they were at that point of their relationship to be on first name basis, even if they did had occasional meals together, with the emphasis on _occasional_. “Just don’t let it happen again. It was too much of a hassle returning all those stolen coats and robes.”

“Dougal hung around the niffler a bit too much,” explained Newt, as if that the answer Graves wanted to hear. “Isn't it amazing how much my creatures learned from each other? I'm proud just being there and seeing the results.”

The director said nothing. He just continued to stare at the wizard before him.

“You will never see him again,” agreed Newt, deciding to agree with the director to end the conversation. He helped Dougal get into his case before heading out of Graves’ office. “It’s not like you saw him to begin with.” Graves pretended not to hear the last bit.

The next day there was a steaming cup of lavender tea on Graves’ desk. He decided to let it go. It was only tea.

(And it really did helped his nerves, but don't tell Newt that. Graves would never hear the end of it.)


End file.
